


fide et amore

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Series: Of the Darkness, We Unite [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, POV Second Person, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Romance, The Blight (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: It begins when she wakes in your home and thanks you.





	

It begins like this.

She is polite to you and says it is a pleasure to meet you. You have never been treated with respect before and, the first time, it is a novelty. She is a strong woman, you know from watching her, and have seen her shrug off blows that would fell a lesser man.

She laughs and rolls her eyes at the men in her party, jibbing them gently to keep them going and proving herself at every moment to be a leader. Though she is not the most senior, you mark her as the one to watch.

You know that she will be important.

At the beginning, you did not know what she would mean to you.

 

 

 

The above is a lie.

It really begins when she wakes in your home – the only home you have ever known – and she _remembers_ you. You introduce yourself again because your name is _Morrigan_ and not _that girl from the Wilds_.

She smiles at you and nods. “And I am Miriella. Or you can call me Miri, if you prefer.”

Miriella surprises you. You knew she was a strong woman and the scars she will leave with would give _you_ pause because they marr her beauty. And she is a beautiful woman, you can tell. Her hair is like spun silver and her eyes like sparkling gemstones – the kind you have only seen from a distance.

You remember the mirror. But Miriella is nothing like the mirror. She is real and she is moving and she smiles at you.

“Thank you, Morrigan.”

“I…” Your face flushes red, heat rising, and your stomach flutters. You have not been thanked before and have done nothing to deserve such. “I’m no healer… mother was the one…”

“But you helped,” Miriella insists. “So, thank you, Morrigan. I am in your debt.”

You have never had anyone in your debt before. You do not know what that means.

When you leave with her, you do not know what will happen. You look at her and Alistair and see how she bears the weight of knowing that the fate of a nation rests upon her shoulders. When Alistair smiles at her, she smiles back but it’s different.

The edges of her smile are softer, her eyes lighter.

You realize that Alistair makes her happy.

 

 

 

Miriella is a strange woman.

You do not understand why she takes the help of that strange woman with her visions and her prayers. You can understand the qunari, the raw power and strength that he represents. Bringing him makes sense to you, because all you have known is that power is might and that is all that matters. Your looks are a power, too, one that you are willing to use to your advantage.

But Miriella does not use her looks. Not like you. You recognize that she could have men bent around her finger with little more than a coy look and smile, but she does not. Her hands are rough and callused from years of training and hard work, but she commands words the same way that she commands their group: without fear and with all the confidence that she will be obeyed.

She asks you for your aide.

“Morrigan, you’re a member of this group like any other. If I have overlooked something, bring it to my attention. I’m counting on you.” And she smiles and clasps your shoulder.

You do not like it when she does this. It makes your throat swell and heart stutter.

You do not like what you do not understand.

You do not understand Miriella Cousland.

 

 

 

Miriella brings you Flemeth’s grimoire.

“I found this when we were in the tower,” Miriella explains. “I thought you might like to have a look at it.”

You hold the worn leather in your hands and stare at the cover, “This… this is my mother’s grimoire. That she lost long ago. You’re… giving it to me?”

“It was your mother’s?” Miriella blinks, then she grins. “Well, I’m certain then that it belongs to you. I’m certain that you’ll make use of it.”

“What do you want in exchange? Surely something as–”

“Morrigan.” Her face is soft though her voice is not. She lays a gently hand over yours, “You’re welcome.”

“But–”

“It belongs to you,” Miriella replies. “And you’re my friend. You don’t owe me anything.”

Friend, she calls you. You have never had a friend before.

You remember what you are here to do. You do not know why your heart drops at the thought.

 

 

 

You tell Miriella about the mirror.

Miriella is sympathetic. You do not know what to do with this and so you lash out. But she does not leave you alone, instead she rolls her eyes and tell you that it’s fine.

She is not angry with you. You do not understand.

When you are in Orzammar, she brings you a mirror to replace the one that Flemeth destroyed. It is even more beautiful than the one you remembered. The back is decorated with stones that remind you of her eyes – beautiful sea-green, even though you have never seen the sea before.

“This is a fine gift. What would you like in exchange?”

“It’s a gift,” Miriella replies, shrugging. “I thought you’d like it. Don’t you?”

“I do. Very much. But you must be expecting some form of repayment. I have no money, but I–”

“It’s a _gift_ , Morrigan.” Miriella closes your hands around the mirror, pushes it gently towards you. “It’s yours. And you’re welcome.”

“I… thank you,” you say, quietly.

Her smile sends your heart hammering against your ribs.

You realize now that you care.

 

 

 

You cannot be attached, but you are.

You find yourself worrying over Miriella when she returns from fighting your mother. _For you_. She fought Flemeth _for you_. And she grins at you and tells you that you’re free.

Your heart is singing and you press your hand over it when no one is looking. You realize, belatedly, that’s it’s too late for you. Glancing at Miriella, leaning against Alistair by the fire and laughing at something he’s said, your heart flutters and your own lips quirk up in a smile.

You realize that it’s too late. You no longer want power. You want her to be happy. You want to protect her.

You want her to live.

 

 

 

The words do not come easily to you.

But she needs to know.

“I… I realize that I have not been exactly grateful or easy to be around,” you say. “But I… I want you to know that I will _always_ treasure your friendship. That I – I think of you like a sister. No matter what comes, I want you to know that I will always be your friend.”

She smiles. She holds you and it hurts. You choke back the pain and the tears because you cannot cry. It would break her and it would break you. Instead, you wrap shaking arms around her and cling to her as you have never clung to another person before.

No one else will ever know you like she does.

 

 

 

She lives and you leave.

You take the child and flee to the edges of Ferelden. All that matters to you is that she lives. Miriella slew the Archdemon and saved Ferelden. You helped – _of course you did, you would do anything for her_ – and she publically acknowledges your aid in defeating the Blight and slaying the Archdemon.

You do not appreciate that help until the child, whom you have named Kieran Miriell in her honour, is four and you come to the court of Orlais.

You are more than a simple apostate. You are a Champion of Redcliffe and a veteran of the Fifth Blight. You are a companion to the Queen of Ferelden and that is of as much interest to the empress as your arcane talents.

Orlais offers safety and protection. It offers you a place to ply your craft and to raise your son. You love your son as you loved her and now that does not make you tremble at the thought. No longer are you that same apostate that left the Wilds in the company of two ragged Grey Wardens; though you are still an apostate, you are more than that.

You are comfortable in your skin. You take pleasure in learning and are surprised that you enjoy writing as much as you do. Sometimes, you see that red-haired Leliana and you smile at her and she stares at you, surprise on her face.

You realize that no one knew you as she did. But you do not mind. She liked you as you are, hard-edges and all.

It does not hurt you that she married and found happiness elsewhere. As a matter of fact, you are happy for her, that she has achieved that happiness and your heart gives a little thrill when you hear of how beloved she is by both the people and her husband. You would gut Alistair yourself if he hurt her.

For a time, you are happy and everything is stable.

 

 

 

Miriella seeks you out, one last time.

You are the last to see her before she vanishes into the west.

You miss her terribly and worry yourself into insomnia that your words and your information might have led her to her death. Your concern is only assuaged when she writes you, briefly, to thank you once again for your aid and to let you know that all is well.

She states that she will return within the year. She sends her love.

You keep the letter close to your heart, always. It is with you during days in court and at night when you sleep. It gives you a newfound strength to endure.

You keep her love close and know that you will always be hers.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Words:** 1657 words
> 
> I... honestly don't really know where this came from, just that I had the idea for it and decided to run with it. It was a lot of fun to write and I enjoyed exploring Morrigan and Miriella's relationship, because it's one that I've absolutely loved since the first time that I played Origins. Earning Morrigan's respect and friendship is huge for me; it means so much and I just wanted to write about it.


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